


Secrets Between Sheets

by Zuri_of_Vesuvia



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Bitchy Bottom, Biting, Collars, Dom/sub Undertones, Hair-pulling, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, MC is scarred for life and they didnt entirely hate it, Rating subject to change, Role Reversal, does watching a memory count as voyeurism?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 10:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19392109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuri_of_Vesuvia/pseuds/Zuri_of_Vesuvia
Summary: The apprentice is continuing their investigation into Lucio’s murder, when an idea strikes them - the books in the library let them see what had happened there, even let them tap into other memories of Asra and Julian. What if something in the Count’s room could do the same?





	Secrets Between Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I would be writing about Lucio at all, let alone something like this, but here we are. Enjoy.

Mercedes and Melchior slink past me as I stand in the doorway to Count Lucio's bedroom. Not much has changed since I was last here, not like the hallway which grows more and more dishevelled every day. Lucio must really hate the paintings out there. By contrast, the large portrait in his room is still untouched - if anything, it looks as if someone has been attempting to clean it, brushing away the top few layers of dust to let the gold of his arm and medals shine through.

My magic comes easier to me than last time, still dull and restrained but the light rushes to my hand like a dog wading through mud to reach its master; as fast as it can, given the circumstances. The real dogs in the room close in, too, their bodies winding between my legs as they sniff at the painting. Melchior whines up at the image of his owner, whilst Mercedes wanders off to start sniffing the bed. They must have so many memories here - I know Lucio wasn't exactly kind to other people, but even Nadia admits that he loved the dogs as if they were his children.

A warm breeze lifts some of the stifling aura in the room, just for a moment, ruffling the dogs' fur with a sound almost like a sigh. A whisper of magic follows it, but it’s not Asra’s. Still, it calls to me, like the books in the library, makes me reach out and touch the tattered silk that hangs from the bed-frame. I don’t have Faust to help me this time, but maybe any animal with a close connection to someone or something will do?

Keeping one hand on the bed, I step closer to Mercedes and reach out my other hand, palm up. I’m not sure if I should look her in the eyes or not, so I spare fleeting glances at her muzzle and offer a reassuring smile. She sniffs, but doesn’t move. Then her ears fold back and although she doesn’t growl, I can tell she isn’t exactly sure about helping me. I withdraw my hand with a sigh, glancing to Melchior and wondering if he might be more willing - he does seem the friendlier one, though he’s rather fixated on the portrait. Just as I’m about to give up, I feel a warm weight against my leg. Mercedes still won’t look at me, but just having her willingly in contact with me is enough. I close my eyes and focus, chase the warmth of life that’s hidden under the ash and the muggy air of death.

When I drop into the memory, it’s like throwing open the windows. Clear air, bright sun catching each golden detail and expensive piece of fabric that decorate the room. I can still feel Mercedes against my leg, but I can also see her at Lucio’s feet. She looks… happy. Her ears are perked up, tail thumping on the floor as she gazes at her master, eyes wide and warm with adoration. It’s a surprise to see some of that look reflected in the Count’s own expression as he scratches between her ears with a fond smile. If someone told me he was a selfish tyrant now, I almost wouldn’t believe it.

Melchior soon joins them, followed by another set of footsteps.

“You asked for me, Lucio?” Even without the glass of wine in his hand, I can easily recognise Consul Valerius by his elegant, ombre braid and general look of displeasure.

The Count snorts. “About half an hour ago, but yes.” He folds his arms, foot tapping on the floor, and I can see what Nadia meant when she said he was childish. “What took you so long? What was more important than _me_?”

Unperturbed, Valerius shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, but doesn't reply. For a second, it seems as if Lucio is going to shout at him, a deep frown curling at his lips. Then his scowl drops with a sigh and he turns his attention to the dogs, which are both waiting obediently at his heels.

“Lovelies, guard the wing. Make sure Daddy and his friend aren’t disturbed.”

 _Lovelies? Daddy?_ This is certainly a side of Lucio I never thought I would see - one I didn’t even know existed, in fact.

“They don’t have a clue who I am to you,” Valerius says as the dogs trot past him and out of the room. “They don’t even know what you’re saying. There’s no need to lie in front of them.”

Lucio wrinkles his nose. “Of course they understand, they’re very intelligent.”

A smirk tugs at Valerius’ lip. He puts down the now empty glass and crosses the room towards Lucio. “Then they’ll know exactly what’s been going on when I pass them on the stairs and reek of your perfume-” He places a hand on Lucio’s chest, and suddenly the Count reminds me far too much of Julian in the memories with Asra. “Among other things.”

Lucio is merely a poor imitation of the commanding man in the portrait when the beginnings of a blush spread across his face. Valerius smiles ever so slightly, the gaze he fixes on Lucio wavering somewhere between fond and mischievous.

Was he… Were they…?

Whereas Julian might have stayed still with nary a finger on him, not daring to speak or move a muscle until told to, Lucio is only capable of a few breaths worth of patience before he abruptly turns, stalking to the bed and whipping off his cape with a very unneeded flourish, before reclining on the mound of pillows with a pout.

"Come on, then. I don't have all day."

Valerius rolls his eyes, walking in the opposite direction towards the wardrobe. "If you want me, specifically, then you will wait as long as I tell you to." He opens the doors calmly, ignoring Lucio's spluttering protests. Only when the Count has given up on making words, does he care to cast a look over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. "Or should I see if one of the others might come and take care of you, him?"

The conflict on Lucio's face shouldn't be so amusing, but it's so unexpected considering all the stories I've heard about him. He's clearly enjoying being talked back to. A very distant part of my mind whisper that I shouldn't be watching, but when you're in a memory for long enough, you forget your way out. Besides, I could still get some information from this. Even if it is just about Count Lucio's kinks.

"Didn't think so," Valerius chuckles, the way a villain might do in a stage play, but not quite as dramatic.

"You're lucky I let you in here," Lucio snaps. "Lucky I allow you to share my bed, to touch me." He glares at the Consul's back, mouth twisting more with every moment he doesn't get a reaction. His hands fist the bedsheets and he huffs in irritation. "Stop stalling! Or I'll feed you to the eels."

Clearly knowing that any threat the count gives is an empty one, Valerius takes his sweet time rifling in the back of the wardrobe, until he eventually produces a collar so gaudy that it could _only_ belong to Lucio. I don't think even Mercedes or Melichor would tolerate the amount of filigree and jewels set into its surface.

Valerius dangles it from his finger, teasing. "Oh, so you _don't_ want this?" He takes a step forward and Lucio breaks eye contact to stare at the floor. "If you don't put the collar on, I'll have to hold you by the hair."

Another step lets him reach out of grab a handful of blond locks, not pulling in spite of what Lucio's yelp implies. The Count meets the Consul’s gaze and bares his teeth in a snarl, his non-golden hand reaching up to catch Valerius by the wrist. The Consul doesn’t budge an inch - he’s a braver man than most - and eventually, it pays off.

" _Fine_ ," Lucio growls. "Fine! Just don't choke me this time. It _hurt_."

I didn’t expect to ever see Valerius smile - let alone grin the way he does when Lucio releases his hand - but getting the Count to do as he says was clearly one of his favourite pastimes.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, voice soft as silk. He kneels on the bed and relinquishes his hold on Lucio’s hair to cup his face instead. “So long as you behave for me.”

Lucio shivers at his touch, then chokes in the wake of his words. He nods, their noses bumping together when Valerius leans closer, hovering with their mouths just millimetres apart long enough to make Lucio start whimpering. Then he grabs his chin and kisses him, hard, biting at his lips until they part to allow his tongue inside. Lucio is stiff from the waist down - in more ways than one - but his upper half practically melts, a deep ruby blooming across his face and chest as he moans onto Valerius' mouth.

The Consul pulls back abruptly, keeping his grip on Lucio's chin tight so he can't chase him for more. It leaves him gaping like a fish, staring helplessly at the lips he clearly wishes were back on his own. Valerius just smirks, using the Count’s moment of shock to slip the collar around his neck and fasten it.

“So hideous,” the Consul sighs, his face dropping to a frown as he admires the bejewelled abomination. “Then again, it did come from _your_ personal collection.”

Lucio’s mouth opens wider in a silent, affronted gasp. I’m expecting a rant about how everything his wears is the height of fashion, how nobody could pull of his clothes like he does-

Shockingly, the Count’s eyes narrow and he instead bites his lip, leaning as close as the hand on his face will allow and giving Valerius a look that just screams _I’m trying to be suave and flirty even though you insulted me._

“If my clothes are so terrible,” he says, inching a hand closer to Valerius’ thigh but not quite touching him. “Why don’t you help me out of them? Hm?”

“No.” Valerius ceases all contact at his answer, moving back off the bed and putting a hand out when Lucio whines and tries to follow. “ _You_ called me here, away from _my_ work. You don’t deserve my help. Now strip.”

This time, Lucio moves without hesitation. He eagerly pulls off his clothes, throwing them to the floor without a hint of care - though he does make a show of pulling down his skin-tight trousers, keeping eye contact with Valerius and licking his lips as he slides the material down his thighs. He isn’t wearing underwear… Of course he isn’t. This is far more than I expected to ever see of the Count, but something fluttering in my stomach isn’t entirely displeased with the show. Personality aside, he _is_ rather attractive. Or was, I suppose.

Once he’s left in nothing but the garish collar around his throat, Lucio sprawls himself back on the bed and waggles his eyebrows. “Alright, is this what you wanted?”

“It’s what _you_ wanted, actually,” Valerius corrects him. He returns to his position, kneeling at Lucio’s side, but this time swings a leg over his waist, straddling him.

“Ohoho, now we’re getting somewhere-” Lucio tries to slide his hand up to the Consul’s hips, receiving a sharp smack on the wrist for his efforts. “Hey! You said you wouldn’t hurt me-”

“As long as you behaved,” Valerius finishes. He slips a finger under the collar and gives it a little tug. “Touching me without permission isn’t behaving, is it?”

Lucio groans, his hand falling obediently to the bed. His first attempt at speaking results in nothing but a choked whine, his breath coming deep and sharp as he tries to make his throat work in spite of the collar and the Consul’s touch against his skin.

“N-no, Sir,” he manages eventually, his voice having lost all sense of demand. He’s _actually_ giving in - and Valerius has barely even touched him.

I’d like to blame the memory, the emotions attached to it, for the bubbling warmth in the pit of my stomach. I don’t want to think about any other reason or why exactly that, just for a moment, I imagined myself in Valerius’ place. It _must_ be the magic. I’m having to tap into feelings, after all. I’m not actually _attracted_ to the Count. He was horrible. I can’t be.

A loud, whimpering moan pulls me out of my thoughts. Lucio’s back arches as Valerius mouths at his intact shoulder, leaving bruises along his collarbone with nips and bites and loud, lewd sucks that he goes back over with his tongue.

“Val, please-” Lucio cuts himself off with a gasp when Valerius delivers a particularly sharp nip to his ear, then carries on talking anyway. “Please, please, oh _please_ -”

It’s a yelp that steals his words this time, his hands grabbing the bed sheets - the claws of his golden arm tearing at them - as he tries not to touch even though Valerius is all over him. The Consul makes his way down Lucio’s pale torso, testing every spot he knows to make the Count squirm, to see if he’ll go against his orders. To Lucio’s credit, he writhes and whines and bucks his hips, but his hands stay firmly at his sides. He complains the loudest when Valerius sits up before venturing past his stomach, but it’s more sounds than any actual words.

“Look at you,” Valerius coos, sliding a hand up his chest, through the trail of bruises and spittle he left there. “Being so good for me. I’ve got you well trained, haven’t I?”

Lucio’s hair flops into his face as he nods frantically, whimpering some more before he finds the ability to speak. “Yes, yes, I’m good, so good, I promise.”

Valerius hums, torturing the Count with feather-light touches across his body, fingers tracing muscles and bones. His own hair is beginning to fall loose from its braid, but even with the pink colouring his cheeks, he looks far from dishevelled. Probably because he still has clothes on and the blushing, trembling man under him is the only comparison in the room.

"I should be the one to decide that, don't you think?" Valerius asks, idly rubbing his thumb over one of Lucio's already stiff nipples.

A shiver runs through Lucio's entire form; even down his golden arm. He sucks his lower lip between his chattering teeth, letting out a low, pitiful whine. I can see why Valerius likes to watch him struggle with his own desires - it's pretty entertaining.

"I've done what you asked, I haven't touched you, I've been a good boy, _please_ , Sir." The words spill out of his mouth in a tone midway between complaining and begging, his eyes radiating the latter whilst his lips purse into a dejected and impatient pout.

Valerius finishes dragging a nail down his side, eliciting another full-body shudder, then leans on his chest with his arms folded as if Lucio were a pillow. "Please what, Luci?"

Lucio manages to flush an even darker shade of red at the nickname. He turns away from the Consul's steady, piercing gaze and swallows thickly, before muttering something that I can't quite make out.

Valerius tugs sharply at his collar, pushing himself up to loom over the Count, their faces only a few inches apart. "You need to speak up to get what you want," he murmurs. "Or I'll _take_ what _I_ want." Another sharp tug so that Lucio meets his eyes.

A grumble builds in Lucio's throat, perhaps a protest or another pitiful sound, but it comes out as no more than a huff. "Please," he says, voice shaking. He takes another breath to steady it, continuing to speak through gritted teeth. "Please _fuck me_ before I _fire_ you."

That's the most pitiful threat I've ever heard.

Evidently thinking the same, Valerius grins. "I thought you'd never ask."

\---

The memory throws me out with a gasp of ash that burns in my throat. My eyes sting when I open them, the room dank, grey and blurry. I realise I'm sitting and wonder when, and how, that happened. I then realise I feel uncomfortably damp all over and hope it's just sweat from the warm, oppressive air that fills this wing of the palace.

One of the dogs suddenly appears in front of me, face inches from mine, and I flinch backwards into the bed-frame. A solid thump to the back of the head is enough to get rid of what I will forever deny being lingering arousal. Hissing as I stand, I lean on a wall until the room stops spinning, then leave with the intention of making it back to the shop without having any sort of human interaction whatsoever - especially not with Nadia or Consul Valerius.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you want to see more! Still debating if MC will ever actually watch the entire scene or if I'll just write it for the sake of the ideas I have and tag it on the end for us to enjoy lol.


End file.
